The restaurant was long and narrow, its ceiling high. Helene sat in a booth at one end, her eyes wide and alert.

To her left was a door that led down to a restroom: a sign next to it read ‘WC’; a slot below the sign demanded a franc for entry. Beyond the door was a large island counter topped by shelves loaded with glasses and bottles of liquor. Facing her at the near end was a coffee machine; at the other end, she thought she saw a sink. Opposite the island counter, to her right, was a wall of sectioned glass, six windows that reached the ceiling, now boarded up.

At the far end of the restaurant stood a booth like the one she was sitting in, facing hers, its mirror image. Otherwise it was all long wooden tables and chairs from one end of the restaurant to the other.

Helene’s hands were bound behind her. She had no idea where she was and only a vague idea of how she’d gotten there. It had all happened in darkness, and with a rough, discourteous urgency.

The lights in the restaurant were bright, certainly brighter than they needed to be. The light hurt her eyes, but she wouldn’t close them, or even blink unless absolutely necessary. When something happened, she would be ready.

***

It could’ve gone either way, but Walker got lucky. And ironically it was a creature he had to thank.

In the instant before the creature with its fingers wrapped around his naked calf could take a bite, the creature holding his head gave it a hard twist. The pain brought Walker abruptly to consciousness and with his instincts on full alert. Immediately sensing danger, he spun away in the dirt and leapt to his feet.

Even in the dim moonlight, and despite their icy green skin and dull grey eyes, he recognized the two men standing before him. The one who’d twisted his neck was Adrian; the one that had been at his calf was Adrian’s teenage son. Or at least that’s who they had been, before they’d become creatures.

How had they found their way here? Had they been on their way to rejoin the group? They were creatures now, but perhaps they hadn’t forgotten their mission. Perhaps some spark of what they had been still lived in their undead brains.

Whatever. They were creatures now, that was all that mattered.

Walker stepped forward and ripped the handgun off Adrian’s belt. He pressed the tip against Adrian’s forehead and fired. Adrian went limp and slipped earthward. Walker then turned on Adrian’s son and fired twice into his skull. He collapsed next to his father.

The two creatures now lifeless at his feet, Walker spun around, the handgun out in front of him, his eyes scanning the darkness. He sought out movement but there was none. For the moment he was alone. He lowered the weapon and knelt down to search the bodies.

Adrian’s son still had the rifle that Ryan had picked up in Bern. Walker slung it across his back. The boy also had a flashlight. Walker flicked it on and made another circle, probing the darkness. But there was no one — and nothing — else.

He pointed the beam down the path in front of him. His safety assured, he now looked for signs of whoever had knocked him out and where they’d taken Helene.

He saw drag marks in the dirt. A trail.

He smiled and caressed the gunmetal in his hand.

A hunt, and there were no rules, not anymore.

He just might enjoy this new world.

***

The bright lights, the long room, the distant hum of a generator. The monotony began to settle in and distract Helene.

She’d already given up on Nicolas and the American. Both, she felt certain, were now dead. And this, whatever it was, was hers to deal with alone.

No, not deal with. Because with her hands bound, she was incapable of dealing with anything. She could be brave and confront her fate, but she couldn’t prevent it.

There was a new sound — the clang of metal — and this feeling of acceptance immediately left her. She stood, pushing the table away with her hips. Her hands were trapped behind her, but she would use what she had to save herself, and do whatever it took.

She turned and saw for the first time a door next to the booth. It seemed to lead to an outer hallway, but like the windows it had heavy wooden planks nailed across it. She turned away and rushed to the door that led down to the bathroom. She tried to open it but it was locked.

Again, that sound — clumsy clanging, metal being knocked about — and then from an opening near the island counter, a man emerged. His hair was wild, grey and curly; and from the watery redness in his eyes, she thought he might be drunk. Yet he was dressed in a suit, and he smiled at Helene in a way that seemed benevolent.

She returned the smile and asked him, in French, to unbind her hands. He just frowned and shook his head.

“Tuet mir Leid,” he said. “I cha nid Französisch. Chasch du Dütsch? Hochdeutsch ist auch gut.”

She turned and showed him her bound wrists, peering at him over her shoulder, a clear request in her eyes. They didn’t speak the same language, but it must’ve been obvious.

The sound of breaking glass drew the man’s eyes to the windows, and he rushed to them urgently as if he thought the heavy wooden planks covering them might suddenly give in. She followed him, no longer afraid of him, now just frustrated by the language barrier and his inability to focus.

“I hätt nid use söue,” he said, “aber i ha dä Lärm ghört dusse und ha wöue ga häuffe.”

He was at the window now, peering out between planks.

Helene joined him and looked outside.

The building was surrounded by zombies.

***

“Where is my husband?” Jane asked no one in particular, pacing back and forth in the forest.

Nic sat hunkered down against a tree, distraught. First he had lost Helene’s mother; now he had lost Helene. Harry and Tanja stood together, speechless. There were just five of them left, and now everyone had lost someone.

Or so it seemed. It was clear that Adrian’s girlfriend and daughter had died, but what exactly had happened to Walker and Helene? No one could say for sure.

Jane should’ve felt conflicted. Walker had been unkind to her, even vindictive. But he had fought to keep them all together, and he was the father of her son.

“I’m going to find him,” she said.

“Mom–” Ryan said.

“Stay here with the others,” she told him.

“No,” he said, taking one of her hands. “I’m going with you. And when we find Dad, we’ll all be together again.”

Jane looked at her son. In the world that had ended, he’d been a boy, just twelve years old. But he was already more than five feet tall, as tall as many adults, and the dangers in this new world certainly wouldn’t spare him just because she thought he was a child. He would need to learn to protect himself like an adult, which would mean her treating him like one.

“We need a gun,” she said, “and a flashlight.”

“You can have my flashlight,” Tanja said, handing hers to Ryan.

“And I’ll come with you,” Nic said, rising to his feet.

“Good,” Ryan said, moving toward Nic. “Helene will be happy to see you.”

This sealed it for Jane, her son encouraging Nic, trying to inspire optimism in him. She had barely begun treating him like an adult and here he was already acting like one.

Ryan flipped on the flashlight, and with a collective glance at Harry and Tanja, the three of them moved back through the forest to find Walker and Helene’s trail.

***

Walker moved along the tree line, his eyes on the building on the far end of the field. It was three stories high, with tall windows along the near side. The windows appeared to have been boarded up, although light inside was still visible. Was this where Helene had been taken?

There were creatures in the field, perhaps as many as thirty, all facing away from Walker and moving toward the building. It might’ve just been the light that was drawing them toward it. Or maybe they’d seen Helene and the man who’d taken her enter it. Walker would have to find out.

The creatures in the field were far apart, but there were more creatures than Walker had bullets. If he revealed himself and they converged on him, it was likely they would bring him down. But they were slow, and he could run. And their brains were slow too. There would be a moment before they realized he was there, and then another moment before they reacted.

Walker pulled the strap tight on the rifle across his back. He chambered a round in his handgun and double-checked the safety. It was off. Then, after taking a deep breath, he lowered his head and sprinted across the field.

***

“Stop!” Jane yelled, but it was too late.

Nic, who had been relying on her to light the way for him, reached the end of the bridge and tripped inelegantly over the first of the two bodies that were lying there.

Jane grabbed Ryan by the arm and they rushed forward. They found Nic already back on his feet, his gun pointed at the ground.

“Show me,” he said, desperate for Jane to illuminate what he’d just stumbled over.

Jane swung the light down and showed him the bodies. One face, then the other. Adrian and his son, both dead. They had been shot, but before that they had turned. They had been creatures.

Jane watched Nic for an emotional response to the deaths of his friend and his son, but his first concern proved to be their safety.

“Give me the flashlight,” he said, and Jane quickly obeyed.

With the light pressed against the side of his gun, he started a slow turn, probing the darkness around them. He pivoted toward them, and Jane and Ryan dropped to their knees beside the bodies. As the flashlight beam passed over their heads, the stench of death assaulted them.

This was how it was going to be. Lives would end, and there would be no time for reflection or mourning. In this new world, the living moved on in a hurry.

***

Where the restaurant window had been broken, a shape appeared, and then a pair of hands reached for them through a gap in the planks. They were in no immediate danger — the wild-haired man had not allowed them to get too close — but still Helene took a startled step backwards.

Now she was desperate. They were surrounded and the window was broken. The planks wouldn’t hold forever. Once again she showed the man her bound wrists, this time pleading with him using one of the few German words she knew.

“Bitte, bitte, bitte!”

His focus shifted urgently between her and the broken window. He seemed wobbly and uncertain, and with his wild hair and watery eyes, she wondered again if he’d been drinking. Of course it might’ve simply been fatigue. Who knows how long it’d been since he’d last slept? But he may have just been losing his mind.

Giving up, Helene turned and looked for an escape route. The door at the far end of the restaurant was also boarded up. With the bathroom door locked, all that remained was the opening near the counter through which the wild-haired man had emerged. She ran to it.

The opening led to a small kitchen area — a sink, a stainless-steel counter, a dishwasher, some shelves, a dumbwaiter — which communicated with the other side of the restaurant. Passing through she found more tables and chairs, and more boarded-up windows and doors. How did the man get in and out? Helene considered the dumbwaiter, but even if the man hadn’t been on the heavy side, it was still too small for a full-grown adult.

On the kitchen counter, a partially-diced carrot rested on a cutting board. A pot of water was boiling on a small stove, and a bag of noodles and some canned food stood nearby. Had the man been making them dinner? When had she last eaten? Not since they’d arrived in Bern. Maybe not even since she and Nicolas had left Fribourg. Seeing her mother die — not just once, but twice — had destroyed her appetite.

Her mother, and then Nicolas. Then the American, and now this wild-haired restaurateur. It was as if some invisible force was pushing her bit by bit away from stability and safety toward chaos and certain death. She envisioned herself at the end of it all, dying alone in an unfamiliar place.

Helene picked up the part of the carrot that was still whole and took several hurried bites. Then she grabbed the small knife the man had been using to cut the carrot and moved back into the first part of the restaurant.

The way out had to be the bathroom door, but she didn’t have a franc or a key, so how to get through it? Helene scanned the island counter for a key but there was none. Then she spotted a square piece of plastic, a black box about the size of a tin of mints with a few buttons on its surface. It reminded her of what her mother used to unlock her car. It was a key. An electronic key.

She turned around and snatched up the electronic key with her bound hands. Tuning out the increasing sounds of struggle at the window, she pushed each button in turn, listening for a click. When one finally came, it was from the direction of the bathroom door. She rushed to it and, facing the windows where the wild-haired man was still occupied, she grabbed the doorknob and pulled.

The door opened with a click.

At the windows, one of the planks fell noisily to the floor. There were now three pairs of hands reaching in. The man was in trouble, his face red with desperation. But he had left her tied up, despite her pleas. If he didn’t make it now, it would be his own fault.

Helene stepped through the door and let it close behind her. It was steel-framed and made of glass reinforced with wire mesh. If the zombies made it into the restaurant, it would take time and effort for them to get through it. Of course there was always the possibility they wouldn’t even try, but she didn’t want to count on that.

A stone staircase led downward. With one last glance over her shoulder at the wild-haired man — another plank had fallen, another pair of zombie hands was reaching in — she descended into the unknown.